


would you hate me if i said i loved you?

by exostential



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, I'm so sorry, M/M, This Will Probably Suck, but i really want to write, i have no idea what's gonna happen, so here goes, this is my first phanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5127035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exostential/pseuds/exostential
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil can't remember what happened to make the sparkle fade from his eyes. Dan knows neither of them are okay, but fakes a visage of carelessness. Both know that they need to solve whatever problem there is before it spirals out of hand. Neither are willing to make the first move.<br/>note: Dan and Phil are not my characters, they're real people with real lives. Anything I've written that isn't known to be true is from my imagination and for the purposes of this story.<br/>(warnings: angst, depression, death/suicide mentions. please don't read if you're not comfortable with this)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey, so this is my first phanfic and my first attempt at writing a fanfiction longer than 1k words. i've got a pretty good idea what i want to write but no idea whether i'll actually be able to pull it off. i'll update the summary later when i actually figure out how this is going to go. sorry for my quite disorganized mess of a mind! updates will probably be pretty sporadic, as i don't get much time off from school and homework and the likes. i'm listening to origin of symmetry on repeat and procrastinating about a major math assignment as i write this. wow, okay, here goes.

Phil's on his laptop, and there's an uneasiness gnawing at his stomach.

“...Dan?”

The boy in question looks up from his own screen with bright eyes and Phil falters. He knows what he wants to say. He's repeated the phrase to himself over and over, nights on end, staring at a dark ceiling in an empty bed.

_This isn't working out._

“N- never mind.”

Dan shrugs and turns back to his screen. His left hand rests on the keypad, the other carelessly draped over the back of the couch, close enough for Phil to touch. He wants to – wants to grab Dan's hand, grab it and never let go. But he doesn't. He doesn't and that's enough to solidify the mess of emotions at the bottom of his chest.

-

Phil hasn't uploaded in a week, even though he's actually been attempting to post a new video every few days, and his Twitter page is under fire from millions of disgruntled fans. Phil often wonders how he got here, with people who knew him, people who _cared_ about him. People who didn't even need to meet Phil in order to love him.

It used to make him happy. And sure, it still feels nice, and sure, Phil cares about his subscribers. But now the pleasant buzz has worn into an irritating chaotic mess and Phil  almost wants to hide from it all .

-

Dan glances at Phil the same time the older boy glances up, and their eyes meet in a mutual question of _are you okay?_

Phil knows it's not okay. He's not sure why, but he's known for a while that  _it's not working out._ That  _there's something very wrong._

An uncomfortable blush spreads across Phil's pale face, and Dan stands up quickly. Both avoid the other's eyes as Dan carries his laptop across the room. Phil remembers. It's Tuesday evening.

“I – uh, you know the drill...” Dan mutters.

“Yeah,” mumbles Phil.

A few minutes later, Phil hears a cheerful voice from Dan's bedroom and it takes him a moment to recognize it as his recently reticent flatmate. He shuts his laptop and places it on the table in front of him. Closing his eyes, Phil stretches his arms behind him. He reclines, letting the distantly familiar resonance of his – he doesn't even know what Dan _is_ to him anymore but – his _best friend's_ voice lull him to sleep.

\---

Dan feels like he's staring out behind a mask as he forces out a bright greeting. It's not long into his liveshow before the chat begins to fill up with the usual “ _where's phil?”_ s and _“how's phil doing”_. It's something Dan's been wondering about recently, too, and he really doesn't need to be reminded. All Dan wants to do is take off this stupid mask of happiness and run into Phil's arms. _Fuck_ , he thinks, an adequate summary of the past week.

-

Dan doesn't know whether to be relieved or distraught when the hour-long broadcast has ended.  _Back to the real world,_ he thinks, and bids his viewers goodbye. Dan glances at the chatbox one last time before closing his computer.

**howellester129:** wow no mention of phil today?

**whatsaphan13:** lol yeah that's a first

_ Fuck off, _ Dan thinks, then instantly feels bad. Annoyed with himself, Dan pulls himself off of his chair and sits down on his bed.

He's momentarily confused. Dan stares at his hands for a moment.  _ You're a functional human being. Act like one. _

Dan slowly stands up, feeling like a puppet. He's watching himself from outside his body.  _ Okay, now walk towards the door. _ It takes much longer than it should to move from his room back to the sofa he'd previously been sharing with Phil.

Dan's heart catches as he watches his flatmate's chest rise and fall, eyes fluttering in the midst of a dream.  Something warm and liquid floods over him and the feeling returns in his limbs. 

_ There's something wrong and I don't  even think I  know myself anymore but I know that I love you. _

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow look i've actually managed to write more! um okay, this is basically mind vomit and there's no plotline currently but i promise i'll work it out very soon!   
> i'm writing this while eating candy and listening to muse instead of sLEEPING like a normal human. yikes. and i wonder why i've got a headache.  
> umm wow there are already seven kudos on the first chapter thank you guys i don't deserve that. <3

Phil's lying on top of his coloured duvet. It's probably around three or four am, as it's been an hour or so since he's heard Dan close his laptop and lie down in his own room. Phil wonders if Dan's asleep yet. Phil also wonders when he'd adopted a mostly nocturnal schedule – it must have been sometime last week that he stopped sleeping longer than a few hours. He knows it's not healthy, knows that sleep deprivation results in all sorts of physical and emotional crap, but Phil reckons that his brain's too wired to try and fix his warped sleeping schedule.

_It's also probably unhealthy to care about someone so much and never do anything about it,_ offers his mind. Phil tells himself to shut up.

\---

Dan's thoughts are a cluttered mess. Usually at this time of night he would just have been scrolling through his Tumblr feed, occasionally reblogging the odd cat gif or anime joke. He's not completely sure why Tumblr isn't even open on his browser. Dan's eyes hurt and he blearily closes the lid of his laptop on the Google definition of megalomania ( _“_ _a psychopathological condition characterized by delusional fantasies of power, relevance, omnipotence, and by inflated self-esteem”_ \- and now he's got the Muse song of the same name stuck in his head).

He crawls under the covers. If he stays very still, he can almost hear Phil breathing in his own room. Almost but not quite.

_He's probably asleep,_ Dan thinks. 

\---

Phil wakes up first. He feels like  something not quite alive  as he splashes  ice-cold  water on his paler-than-usual face in an attempt to wake up.  Raking his fingers down his dripping face, Phil stares into matching ice-cold eyes. His reflection's telling him to drink some coffee.  _You'll feel better._

-

In an unplanned gesture of kindness, Phil precariously balances two brimming cups of coffee by Dan's door. Careful not to pour the hot drinks all over himself – an act that really wouldn't surprise him due to his clumsy nature and fried brain – Phil eases open the bedroom door. Dan's fast asleep, his hair a brown, curly mess.  Phil feels a familiar wave of affection for the younger boy and quickly sets their coffees down before he fucking cries into his drink or something.

“Hey, wake up, you,” Phil says, surprising himself with his overly gentle tone. Dan mutters an indiscriminate string of cuss words and slowly blinks open a bloodshot eye.

“Whayoudoin?” he mumbles, peeking up at Phil through a curly lock of hair.

Phil's really not sure himself. “Uh. Coffee?” He offers a cup to Dan.

A small smile emerges from Dan's lips. In the time it takes for Dan to sit up and reach for the coffee mug, Phil can barely resist tangling his hands through his flatmate's soft mess of hair.

He doesn't, of course, and they spend the next few minutes sitting side-by-side – adequate distance between them – on Dan's bed, sipping hot coffee in content silence.

-

Dan looks like he's been through a natural disaster and he flops on the couch (not before he makes himself turn on the TV).  He scrolls through Netflix, head buzzing.  _Probably just the caffeine._

\---

Phil's in the kitchen, not making breakfast.

He is, though, feeling incredibly confused.

_Jesus, Phil, it was_ coffee _, not like you fucking kissed him or something._ Phil knows. He  _gets_ it. Yeah, he brought his friend coffee in th e morning, like he used to.

_Used to._ His brain seizes on that detail. _Maybe things are okay._

Phil hears a fresh episode of Death Note begin to play from the other room. Dan used to wait for him.

_Yeah, maybe things aren't._ Phil tells his mind to _bloody shut up_.

\---

“Ah, sorry,” Dan runs a hand through his messy fringe, avoiding Phil's glance. He's not completely sure why he started the episode without Phil. It just hadn't clicked that normally he'd wait for Phil. _Nothing's normal, really,_ Dan supposes with a frown.

Phil shrugs, blowing on his coffee. “S'fine, I didn't make breakfast. We're even.”

They exchange an awkward laugh and Dan forces himself to focus on the episode. It takes his brain a while to register the current storyline. His confusion isn't helped by constant glances in Phil's general direction.

\---

Phil's tapping his fingers against his leg, an unsteady beat that might be related to New Born.

_How much are you worth?_

_You can't come down to Earth._

_Yeah_ , Phil thinks, the lyrics playing through his mind with an air of finality.  _I'm worth nothing and I'm drifting away from here._

\---

Phil's anxiety radiates towards Dan and the younger boy would like, more than anything, to pull his friend close and comfort him like any normal person would.

_So why don't you?_

Dan wants to scream in frustration. The anime's playing in the background of his thoughts like a unfittingly bright score for a horror film. 

Dan still wants to scream.

_Where the fuck did I go wrong?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is a bit late, i'm really trying to update quickly. (and sorry for such short chapters!) thanks for the kudos, it means a lot <3

Phil's not sleeping again.

His almost fully conscious night times haven't boded well for the diurnal lifestyle he's followed for the past 28 years. Phil's heard the whole _'you need to sleep in order to grow and be healthy'_ spiel a million times as a child. _You're already tall enough,_ he thinks to himself. _Why not enjoy the night while it lasts?_

Besides, Phil's already determined that any other problems he may have aren't related to sleep deprivation.

That's for sure.

-

The problem with living in a flat is that it's not the easiest to make a discreet exit. It's sometime after four a.m. and Phil's almost one hundred percent sure Dan's asleep. He opens the door of their flat, as quietly as possible, slipping on shoes and grabbing his galaxy jacket. ( _A very subtle choice,_ his mind reprimands.) The sleepy-looking guy in the front office, large thermos of coffee in hand, gives Phil a weird look as he walks out the front door with a small wave.

-

Phil's surprised to see a few others strolling down the dimly lit streets. _Although,_ he thinks, _it's not particularly surprising that none of them look particularly happy._ Phil figures that anyone out alone _this_ late at night – or early in the morning, depending on one's perspective – can't be having a great week.

If Phil wasn't alone, if he had Dan by his side – back when he still _had_ Dan by his side – he'd make a joke about the lonely few stars that shone through London's stereotypically light-polluted sky. Dan would elbow him, pointing out with a laugh the clear difference between airplanes and Phil's 'stars'. Phil would smile at his friend, and tell him that it all depended on your perspective.

Maybe Phil would grab Dan's hand and clumsily lace their fingers together, and Dan would give him that adorable side-smile of his that he reserved for Phil and _only_ Phil, and they'd stare at the stars _together_.

-

Phil snaps out of his reverie when a woman brushes by him, her purse swinging and her eyes glazed and tired, and realizes that he's been standing in the middle of the street outside his building. Phil drags the heels of his palms over his face, trying to rub the fatigue out of his own eyes.

He's not completely sure what he's doing out here. He just couldn't stand the stale air and claustrophobia of his room.

_Everything's fine. Everything's fine,_ he tries to reassure himself.

Phil wants to cry.

\---

Dan's alone and he almost laughs at the absurdity of a twenty-four-year-old man scared of being alone in the dark.  He wonders  if Phil knows he's awake, knows he's lying on top of his covers, staring at the ceiling,  alone and afraid of the monsters under his bed.

Afraid of the monsters clawing at the edges of his consciousness.

He swings his legs over the side of his bed. Dan stands up. He's shaking and he has no idea why but it might have to do with Phil's absence.

_I can't survive without him._

Dan knows this. He always has, ever since he was an eighteen-year-old, accepting a Skype call with no idea what to hope for. His hands shook then  too , but for different reasons.

-

The sun's slowly peeking over the horizon but the light seems to have been sucked out of Dan's vision. He's blind and fumbling in the dark without Phil's radiance. Dan crouches on the floor, eyes shut tightly. He wraps his arms around himself. It's like someone's droning on and on inside Dan's mind and he can't shut them up.

_Shut up shut up shut up_

-

He hasn't straightened his hair for a couple days and normally, Dan would have been horrified at the hobbit-like turn his fringe has taken. But he couldn't care less as he pours himself a coffee and sits on the couch, staring at a blank television screen.

Dan needs Phil, and he needs him now.

He hates himself for relying so much on someone else, someone who doesn't deserve to put up with his shit.

_You're a fucking parasite._

\---

Phil stumbles into the apartment sometime in the morning and walks straight into Dan, who'd been keeping a silent vigil directly in front of their flat door.

Phil sees the dead look in his friend's eyes and hates himself for leaving.

He wraps his arms around Dan for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He stands there for a while, holding Dan's rigid form, and feels a flicker of panic. In a millisecond, Dan melts into Phil's arms, sobbing into his chest.

“I'm so sorry,” Phil whispers into Dan's messy hobbit hair.

Dan pulls away for a moment and brings his mouth to Phil's ear.

“ _I'm the one who should be.”_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my gOD i'm so sorry i haven't been updating! life has been insane. it might be a while before i can write more, but i promise over the winter break there should be daily updates. (also there's only, like, one muse reference so congratulations to me)

Phil rests his hands on Dan's shoulders, squeezing them in what he hopes is a comforting manner. God, he could just lean in right now and--

“We need to talk,” says Dan.

The corner of Phil's mouth twitches into a dry smile. “Yeah… that would probably be good.”

Phil takes Dan's hand ever so gently, leads him to the couch and sits down. Dan perches next to him, a fraction of a centimetre away from shoulders touching, and buries his face in his hands. “I… Damnit, Phil, I'm sorry.”

Phil doesn't know what to say. _'Sorry for what'? 'It's okay'?_ Instead, he simply lets Dan talk.

“Phil… you know me. You've always known me. Like… you've always been able to see right through me.”

Phil knows this. Dan's always worn his heart on his sleeve; let his feelings bleed through. For someone as emotionally perceptive as Phil, seeing through his best friend's exterior has never been a challenge.

Dan continues. “You're always there for me – God, this sounds like a stupid fucking birthday card. That's not how I mean it. Honestly? I don't deserve you.”

Phil opens his mouth to protest but Dan cuts him off.

“I know what you're going to say, so don't. You know as well as I do. No one deserves _you_ , Phil, you're too good for the rest of us.”

_It's not true_ , thinks Phil,  _at least not recently. You're blind to what I see in myself._

“You're the fucking light at the end of the tunnel. You're the reason I wake up and the only way I'm able to sleep.” Dan's voice wavers, and his eyes flicker, focusing on Phil. “I… You're my only source of happiness, Phil. You're the only fucking reason I'm alive. And you know that just as well as I do, so don't fucking deny it.”

D an's words are a slap in the face. “No… Dan, you don't mean that. You've got other reasons to live… your family, your internet family… Please, Dan, tell me you don't mean that.”

D an is silent.

Phil's growing more desperate. “ You can't make another person the only reason  you're living, Dan. It's not fair.”

_It's not fair to_ me _. I can barely take care of myself… how the hell am I supposed to keep_ you  _alive?_

Dan opens his mouth, about to speak, but decides against it. He raises his arm, gently cups Phil's cheek. “Phil, I'm sorry.”

Phil jerks away and stands up shakily. Dan watches him with wide eyes. “I'm leaving,” Phil chokes out. He's still wearing his coat.

He leaves, not sure where he's going or when he'll come back, if ever.

\---

Tears leak out from Dan's eyes and he forces himself not to cry. _Hold it in_ , he tells himself, _you're stronger than this._

Phil's words sting, but Dan wasn't lying. Of course he loves his “internet family”, as Phil calls it, but as much as they care, they're… _not Phil_. They don't have Phil's laugh or Phil's (electric, bright, fucking beautiful) eyes. And here's Dan, ruining everything piece by piece. He needs that smile, those eyes right now to hold him together.

Dan _loves_ Phil. That's the essence of this whole fucked-up thing. Dan was broken and Phil put him back together and Dan simply loves Phil. He's falling apart again and he's driven away his best friend and Dan loves him.

\---

The guy from last night's still on duty and he glances at Phil's shellshocked expression. “Y'okay, mate?”

Phil gives him a small smile. “Yeah, sure,” he says. Of course he's not.

Phil's halfway down the street when something clicks in his brain. He freezes, then pivots around and starts sprinting back to the apartment.

-

Phil bursts through his flat door and Dan stands up from the couch. They stare at each other and the clarity fades from Phil's mind. _What the fuck am I doing?_

Dan walks towards him, shaky at first, then his pace picks up. Soon he's running towards Phil and Phil grabs the younger boy's shoulders before they collide. Phil leans forward and gently brushes his lips across Dan's forehead. Phil lowers his head to meet Dan's eyes (molten chocolate, deep, gorgeous). He feels Dan beginning to move forward but Phil stops him, resting his hands on his friend's cheeks. “You're already attached to me enough,” he whispers, only half-joking. Dan swallows and looks away, letting Phil's hands fall to his sides.

\---

Dan stares at Phil's shoes, the tips of which almost touch his own bare toes. _Idiot,_ scolds his brain. _Of course he doesn't want to be with you. No one in their right mind would, you piece of shit._ Dan has no choice but to listen to himself.

Suddenly, Phil folds him in his arms and Dan sobs into his older friend's shoulder. For a moment, Phil's brightness has driven away the shadows. For one moment, Dan can allow himself to _feel_ again before the darkness returns.

_How could I ever love myself the way that I love you?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's some formatting issues because i'm pasting from libreoffice writer and i don't have the patience to fix the errors ;u; apologies for strange spaces


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh wow i'm so sorry i haven't updated since last year :( life has been really crazy and i've not exactly had the energy or motivation to update this.  
> by the way this isn't the end! there's more to (sporadically) come :D  
> have a lovely day

_It's been a great t_ _hree days,_ thinks Dan. He feels a bit guilty as he looks down on Phil's pale face, almost angelic in its softness. More than anything in the world, Dan wants to fling himself down next to Phil, crushing his best friend within his arms, burying his face in the scent of his soft dark hair. More than an escape from the darkness inside of him, Dan wants to cradle Phil's face between his palms, drawing their mouths together, winding his hands around Phil's jaw, his neck, his shoulders -

Dan stops. He folds this dream neatly and tucks it between countless others of a similar nature. With a tenderness that makes his hand shake, Dan brushes his knuckles over the older boy's moonlit skin, freezing when he feels Phil's breath speed up against his hand. Still caught in a dream, Phil clumsily reaches up to rest his hand over Dan's.

A tear slips down Dan's cheek and is caught in his wistful smile before he can wipe it away. Dan brushes his fingers over the sleeping boy's hand, and oh, if only he were awake, if only he could save Dan.

If only Phil had noticed the brown-eyed boy leaning over him, if only he were to bolt awake, kissing the tears away, nudging their noses together and -

Dan has to stop himself again. It's been a great three days, and Dan would like to end on a good note. Carefully unlocking his fingers from Phil's, he leans over the pale boy's closed eyes and gently, ever so gently kisses the tip of his nose. A tear lands on Phil's eyelid and Dan kisses it away. Dan is slightly shocked at himself; he stands up, not wanting to take advantage of his friend.

_But... it's not like I don't deserve it._ An awful thought takes root.  _I've survived this long. I've clung to the edge while the demons stamped on my fingertips. Tonight is my consolation prize._

Dan hates the voices.

He leaves the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

-

Dan's never been one for drama. He hates notes, finds the idea of them pretentious and cruel. And he's not very well going to put on a suit or lay out flowers or put Adam's Song on repeat. Dan doesn't think of himself that highly. _If I did, I wouldn't be in this mess_.

He's done his research. _Or_ , thinks Dan wryly, _I've looked at three Answers pages. Perhaps not the most reliable of sources._ Dan uncaps the bottle of F ioricets and pours fifteen... eighteen... twenty-six into his palm. He doesn't know if it's enough. He'd read about someone who took over a hundred and was still rescued.

_You're scared. You're scared to do it properly, you still think your prince in shining armor will save you and make it okay._

Dan balls his fists, closing his fingers around the pills. _I'm not scared_.

_Then do it right._

Dan counts another twenty pills into his palm. The glass of water's waiting patiently on his bedside table, rippling slightly when Dan leans towards it. He studies his faint reflection in the glass. _Why don't I just pour out the whole bottle?_

Dan stares at the walls. The paint stares back, unforgiving.

_Because I want to see the sun rise one more time. I want to have coffee with the man I love one more time. I want to spend another day on the internet, or filming a video. I want to travel and learn and make art. I want so much._

Dan settles for the sunrise. If he does it right, he'll be gone before Phil wakes up.

-

He doesn't want to record some video about last words and bullshit.

He doesn't want them to worry.

He doesn't want to hurt them.

Dan opens Twitter for the last time and clicks on Compose. His fingers shake; he pounds out 'i love you' and each key sounds like an amplified heart beat. He's so tempted to add 'phil' but that would be cruel, and Dan has lived this long without hurting anybody.

He sends the tweet and locks his computer without waiting for a response.

-

Dan almost smiles at his detached calmness. Yesterday, he was clinging to Phil, tears streaming down his face. But now, he reminds himself that he's taking charge. That he's doing what's right. And he ignores that these are desperate lies.

The sun's peeking over the horizon and London's coming alive. Dan smiles for the fearless beauty unfolding outside his window.

Before he can change his mind, Dan swallows.

-

It's not long before Dan feels the fioricets' effect. As he closes his eyes against the oppressive sunshine, he realizes that will never know how it must be like to kiss Phil, just as the darkness will never know how it feels to be kissed by the sunlight.

But if only. If only he did. _If only you loved me, and then maybe it wouldn't have to be this way._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg i actually updated on time congrats to me  
> hope you enjoy~

A beam of sunshine filters through the window, and Phil mumbles as the light rouses him. He glances at the alarm clock beside his bed – the digital display reads 5:53 am – and he groans quietly. He's about to let himself fall back asleep when he notices the very cause of his disturbance – someone had opened the curtains during the night, letting the sun shine through, and it wasn't Phil. He throws a hand onto his bedside table and fumbles for his glasses, shoving them haphazardly on the bridge of his nose.

“Dan?” calls Phil blearily, stumbling out of bed. “Tha's you that opened the curtains, right, not a murderer?”

There's no answer. _Probably still sleeping, the little shit,_ thinks Phil fondly. _Dammit, if I have to be awake then so_ _does_ _he._

He grabs his phone and throws a sweatshirt over his boxers, still half-asleep as he finds his way through the brightening halls to Dan's room. He cracks open the door to his younger friend. “You fucker, I lost a good six hours of well-deserved sleep-”

A contented smile falls across Dan's face as his eyelids flutter shut.

“Oh shit – oh shit oh shit –” Phil runs across the room, shakes Dan's shoulders and there is no response -

“Oh, fuck you, Dan, fuck you.”

He's trying to remember first aid as he subconsciously dials 999. Phil gives up trying to recover Dan's breath and closes his eyes, tears leaking down his cheeks as he gives his address to the emergency operator.

The next hour is a blur for Phil. It's as if he's simply watching a film – this is the scene where they lift Dan onto a stretcher, placing an oxygen mask on his face. This is the part when they ask Phil for the details and he hears his own disembodied voice answering very calmly because it's not real, it's just a fictionalized account of someone else's story.

-

They ask Phil if he wants to come to the hospital and of course he says yes, because what else could he do? He feels like he's about to go under anaesthetic as he perches on the edge of the small seat in the ambulance, staring at Dan's lifeless skin. Phil is numb, even when the ambulance hits a pothole and he's knocked off-balance, crashing into the floor. He ignores a paramedic's offer to help him up – they've arrived at the hospital and Phil can almost feel the strings attached to his limbs as an invisible mind puppeteers him after the stretcher.

-

Someone tells him to wait outside. That's all he hears, Phil's not quite sure what he's waiting outside of – Heaven? An operating room? An alternate universe, where he'd done everything differently and hadn't gotten them into this shit?

-

Phil sits like a marionette, waiting for its handler to return. With unexpected force, Phil is suddenly shoved back into his body, choking on a hard lump in his throat as the sound returns full-force and streaks of colour and light become physical forms again. He blinks hard, suddenly conscious of what other people see in the brief glances and double-takes – unruly black hair, a bit of dried spit clinging to his face, crusted and lifeless eyes. _At least I'd remembered to put jeans on,_ thinks Phil wryly.

-

The next twenty minutes are a blank spot the colour of the hospital wall in Phil's memory. A nurse takes him by the arm, lifting him out of his chair – come here, have some water. Sit down somewhere else, we'll tell you everything. Do you need help? Please – sit back down.

“Your roommate will be just fine,” she says – Phil didn't catch her name, there are too many nondescript nurses in hospital scrubs to keep track of in his current headspace. “We'll just keep him in residence for a few days to make sure everything's in order, and then you can take him home.” Phil glances at her nametag – Leigh – and makes a mental note to remember her name. She's uninteresting as nurses go, but she's kind, and Phil appreciates that.

-

The second Leigh tells Phil that he can visit Dan, it's as if someone had injected adrenaline into his bloodstream. He barely catches the floor and room number as he unfolds his lanky body from the chair and strides towards the elevator. Phil doesn't realize that he's mumbling to himself ( _hurry up hurry up hurry up)_ until the family on the other side of the elevator start giving him weird looks. He meets their eyes and fervently declares, “I fucking _love_ that son of a bitch. Sorry,” he acknowledges the parents' glare. Nothing can touch Phil as he runs through the corridors, ignoring a couple nurses' complaints. Phil skids to a halt in front of Dan's room and fear starts to trickle into his thoughts. He faces the door and raps it with his knuckles. A petite nurse opens the door. She smiles widely at him.

“You must be Phil... Lester?” she asks merrily, checking something off on a clipboard.

“...Yeah.” Phil's voice comes out less human than bullfrog.

Phil admires the freckles splashed across her nose as she tells him that Dan's still asleep, but doing well.

“I'll give you two some privacy.” She shoots him a final smile and exits the room, gently closing the door behind her.

Phil sits on the edge of Dan's bed; the hospital light gives the younger boy's skin an unflatteringly sickly glow. His appearance isn't helped by the oxygen mask and several tubes threading out of his skin and nose, connected to various machines.

Phil barely sees the medical equipment. He's gazing at Dan like the first time he'd ever seen him. Phil's hands tremble as he reaches down to brush the curly brown hair out of his face – not unlike the way his hands shook the first time he'd Skyped Dan, with no idea what to hope for -

As soon as Phil's fingers make contact with Dan's cool skin, the weight of the situation crashes down on him and Phil feels dark, hot rage simmer in his stomach and rise up his throat, bitter and searing like bile.

He wants to scream and punch Dan for trying to take away the one thing he cares about in the world.

But he knows it's not Dan's fault – it's _his_ , he wants to hurt himself for not trying harder, for not noticing, for not -

Phil doesn't realize that he'd scrunched himself into a slightly emo-haired clump, rocking back and forth on the ground, until the pretty nurse from before rushes into the room and grasps his arms, steadying him.

“Hey,” she says softly. She offers Phil a hand and, slightly embarrassed, he pulls himself up. He's still shaking with anger, but something about the nurse's voice soothes the raging beast inside of him and he offers her a shaky smile.

“It's okay, he's alive. That's what matters, right? That he's still here.” The nurse gives him a comforting, though slightly condescending, pat on the shoulder and stops at the doorway. “If you need anything, I'll be down the hall.” She leaves once again, and Phil sits on Dan's bed, slouching over his friend.

“It's not, though, is it?” he whispers. “It's not what matters.”

_What matters is that, somehow,_ I _wasn't good enough._


End file.
